


The 33rd

by csaber



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Microfic, Post-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csaber/pseuds/csaber
Summary: Living alone after the end of the Reaper War, Shepard receives a call on a day he forgot was special.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Ashley Williams
Kudos: 10





	The 33rd

**Author's Note:**

> Something I uncovered from browsing my Tumblr archive. I wrote this six years ago, but upon rereading it, I liked it enough to post it here.

The cup of water dangled in the air just above the table. That his sole hand was trembling wasn’t helping.

 _Focus. Breathe. Break it into two parts, that’s easier._ The ancient lessons played in his head, like he was back in biotic training. He got the cup to rise, now he needed to pull. His fingers flexed the mnemonic, each movement slow and deliberate.

His hand was still shaking.

The cup snapped through the air. A slap in his palm. Water splashed over the rim and onto his fingers. Shepard sighed, then drank from what was left. At least the cup didn’t hit the ceiling or fly into a wall. At least it was still intact.

 _Spend too much time smashing things, you forget the basics._ Not that he could smash anything anymore, let alone hold his old shotgun. “No” was his reply each and every time someone asked him if he wanted a replacement hand. “ _Other people need it more,"_ he said, gazing at the stump halfway below his left elbow. Replacing it implied he still needed it.

Squatting in some abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, the former commander of the _Normandy_ found that one hand was just fine. He just needed to relearn the basics.

Shepard sat down on a stain-covered sofa as his omni-tool and a haptic window appeared around his stump. The last meeting with the Powers That Be made his stance on unwanted calls clear. But this name… He hit "Accept.” “Hey.”

“Skipper. Happy Birthday.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Of course you forgot.”

“Some things don’t change.” Ever since his Reds days he’d lost track of them–except for his 18th. The _Normandy_ days gave him even less reason to remember.

“I would’ve gotten you something nice,” Ashley said, “but all the nice things are probably buried under the rubble. Clean-up’s been going smoothly, but it’s still a mess in the big cities.”

 _That’s why I ended up here_. The Reapers left more than a few patches of the middle of nowhere untouched, and he needed space, from everything and from everyone. “What about the Relay network?”

“Last time I checked, we were making progress. The Charon Relay’s almost repaired.” Ashley leaned back in an office chair. “Meanwhile, all the big names are trying to keep their species from turning on each other. It’s getting tense.”

Shepard dropped his gaze. “Of course it is.” Being stranded on an alien planet only worsened things.

“Hackett keeps telling me they could use you back.”

“No they don’t.” Shepard pressed his lips together when he heard the bluntness in his voice. “I’m sorry. But I’m not a diplomat.”

“I get it. You’ve done more than enough already. Like, you know, saving everyone's asses.”

Sometimes it seemed more like “too little” than “enough,” and filling the gap between was out of his reach. He looked back at the haptic window. “So. How’re things with you?”

“Busy. The Alliance is pulling me one way, the Council’s pulling me the other… I think I know how you felt.”

Shepard took a sip of water. “You’re probably better at it than I was.”

“Did I ever mention how you give yourself no credit?”

“More than once.”

“Anyone else would have their head in the clouds. You’re the exact opposite." Ashley facepalmed, sighing. "All right, I shouldn’t be playing shrink with you on your birthday. I was going to ask if you were up for doing something this weekend.”

Shepard mustered a smile. “As long it doesn’t involve diplomacy?”

“No, it won’t,” Ashley said. “When was the last time you went outside, anyways?”

“Yesterday," he said matter-of-factly. "I took a walk.”

“Guess that counts.”

His smile remained for the rest of the call and most of the night. It was the contentment from hearing her voice, as much as he liked his silent slice of Earth. It was anticipation from having something to look forward to. For Shepard, those two hadn’t mixed in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> For readers of my other fics, this isn't the Shepard featured in The Long Shot and Less than Long Shots. (Clearly, since this guy isn't dating Joker!) I wrote it with my other M!Shep in mind, a grouchy Vanguard of the Renegon (I'd say a 60/40 Renegade/Paragon split by the end of ME3) persuasion by the name of Hunter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
